


The koi next door

by negi



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mentions of kidnapping, Mermaids, my personal brand of magical slice of life, near-drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 09:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19971961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/negi/pseuds/negi
Summary: There is one remarkable thing akin to a fairy tale in which Yuta allows himself to believe: a mermaid lives in the sparkling sea surrounding his painfully, utterly, completely mundane town.





	The koi next door

All his life, Yuta’s been told stories of magical creatures, pesky spirits, and myths on the formation of land itself. Small villages are fraught with fairy tales for every occasion, see; but, ironically, existence in such places is painfully and utterly, completely mundane.

Yuta lives in a tiny seaside town bordered on two shores by sparkling ocean, though oddly enough their main export is not fish but rather glassware, handmade and strewn with glistening dyes in all colors of the rainbow. The city spans for a few miles, and across a grassy field and a babbling brook, the countryside spans for a few more. Yuta’s apartment building - a yellowing structure standing three stories high - rests a couple blocks away from his job at a flower shop, and on the walk there he passes four restaurants whose owners know his regular orders by heart and the single academy that houses all grades from kindergarten through high school. For college, students must travel elsewhere. As he lives day in and day out in routine and predictability, Yuta thinks that he doesn’t dislike his tiny seaside town, for the people are nice, the scenery is breathtaking, and the food is always fresh. But he can safely say, after living there for twenty-odd years, that he’s rather restless in it.

Often on his lunch breaks Yuta will sit behind the flower shop and look out across the sea, letting the distant sound of rolling waves and the lingering scent of salt refresh his senses after standing amidst floral fragrances for hours at a time. He always watches the ocean, but no sea monsters break through its tides and no pirate ships sail across the horizon. It's just a normal, flowing abyss for as far as the eye can see.

After work, Yuta tends to pick up dinner on his way home, making stops along the foot route to hand flowers that couldn’t be sold to children playing in the street and to venders setting up their carts of food and textiles for the evening rush. This never encourages enchanting maidens to trick him into servitude, nor does it lure pixies from between the cracks in cobblestone paths. Everyone he passes is normal, friendly folk.

He usually finishes eating by the time the sun is nearly set, and the after-meal drowsiness that follows guides him into his bed. Sometimes he’ll check the usual apps on his phone but there’s never much going on, and instead he takes to looking up at the window above his head. There, on the jutting off-white sill, is a small glass figurine he’d bought with his very first paycheck and handled carefully ever since: a delicately crafted koi fish painted a brilliant golden orange that catches the sun at all times of day and projects fiery streaks through the room onto his pale, paint-chipped walls. Even in the last vestiges of sunlight, the glass’s warm glow always permeates the oncoming dusk. Yuta feels comfort in the reflections that bounce off his walls and the cool exterior of the koi suspended over his pillows, for there is one remarkable thing akin to a fairy tale in which he does allow himself to believe: a mermaid lives in the sparkling sea surrounding his painfully, utterly, completely mundane town. Yuta knows this, because he’s seen it.

Eighteen years ago, it saved his life.  
  


ζ|||ζ

Yuta stands thigh-deep in the ocean and he can’t, for the life of him, remember how he got there. He thinks and thinks, but nothing comes to mind aside from how cool the water feels around his bare legs, only the slightest traces of movement licking against his skin on a windless afternoon. It’s bright-- so very bright-- and Yuta can’t decide if it would be better to stare straight ahead at the blinding blue sky or look downwards at the crystalline waters reflecting droplets of light back up at him like glimmering pearls floating in the calm sea. A gentle brush to his calf draws his attention towards the latter and he watches as a small golden fish, nearly blending in with the yellow sand at his feet, swims circles around him before wandering off. It quickly gets lost among the rippling shadows cast onto the ocean floor and Yuta feels a strange sense of dread at its disappearance. He doesn’t know what to do so he continues standing there, blanketed in the warmth of an unobstructed sun that never seems to pierce through the ocean’s icy surface, and waits for whatever should come next.

Soon noises begin to permeate this strange, still world. There are no waves in sight, but from the distance comes the sound of water crashing onto rocks at the bases of cliffs, and even farther still he can hear the faint laughter of children playing at shore. Slowly but surely, familiar audio of his humble beach city flows towards him: dogs barking, cars puttering down winding roads, aunties shouting the contents of their food carts to anyone passing by. It’s so comforting-- so reassuring-- and all Yuta wants to do is see everything for himself because instinct is telling him that something about these diamond waters is very, very wrong. He tries to move but it takes so much energy for him to raise just a single foot from the clutches of the shimmering golden sand, entire lower body weighed down in a prison of salt and unseen force. His breathing grows labored as he fights against watery shackles and his heart races when the noises at shore begin to dwindle while he struggles, and once he finally - _finally_ \- faces his whole body towards land there is nothing there. He sees no children, no dogs, no aunties. No cars roam the one-lane streets weaving through town, and no trace of life lines the oasis-like shore. There is only silence as the water around his legs settles once again into an unmoving trance.

Yuta knows the deep-seated panic of being lost at sea very well. Yes, he can see home from where he stands, but he knows by now that it is unreachable. He remembers, at this point, how he got here-- how he always gets here.

He also remembers what comes next.

A loud crack overhead, deep from the bowels of the sky, shatters the deafening silence, and the interruption would be welcomed if not for the ocean grabbing at his skin even tighter, trying desperately to drag him down beneath the waves beginning to crest in every direction. Yuta supposes he can’t blame the sea for reacting this way; not when he was never meant to be there in the first place. There is wind now, strong enough to suck breath from lungs, and water - still so cold - slams into his back, soaking his bones through his clothes. He looks up at the sky that had turned a murky grey without his knowledge and sees, in slow motion, a blinding white light crackling through the air in a zig-zag path that he knows will end at a target on his chest, crawling closer and closer to striking him, heat burning his face more and more with every passing second--

_“GOOOOOD MORNING, LOYAL LISTENERS AND FIRST-TIME FRIENDS! It’s going to be a beautiful Monday with clear skies and a slight breeze throughout the afternoon. No traffic in sight, but there never is, hey? Don’t forget about the sale at Miss Yamada’s today. Treat yourself to a nice flower on the way to work and shake off those Monday blues--”_

Yuta slams his palm down on his alarm clock and shuts off the obnoxiously spirited radio host in groggy annoyance. The man’s booming voice does a good job of waking him every morning so he really can’t complain - especially not when it’s the only station recorded locally and guaranteed to come through cleanly - but no amount of chipper weather forecasts will ever turn Yuta into a morning person. Though, he supposes it's a blessing to escape that particular dream before the worst of it comes to a head. As drowsiness fades from behind his sinuses, he presses his face into a pillow and lets out a long, muffled cry to scare the last remnants of sleep away. He pushes up onto his forearms and blinks through squinted eyelids until they feel less like lead weighing down his lashes. Plentiful, overdramatic stretches loosen up his body and give him a few more minutes to stay tangled in his soft sheets.

There is progress made as he sits up in bed, though he stalls by staring - as if entranced - at the glass koi now at eye level on its window sill, burning orange in a dawning sun.

Finally, with a yawn and the pop of a shoulder, Yuta reaches for his phone on a small bedside table and ventures onto the cool wooden floor, dragging himself across the hallway to the bathroom. He’s scheduled for a long double shift - after which he knows he’ll want to soak in a nice, long bath - so he opts for only a quick shower and nothing done to his hair except a half-completed blow dry (the rest will dry fast enough in the heat of an oncoming summer). Dressing takes no time at all as he throws on his work uniform of tan shorts and a pink tee-- not his favorite ensemble, but nothing a plethora of earrings can’t jazz up. In the kitchen he manages to scrounge together a breakfast of day-old rice and pickled vegetables and washes them down with milk straight from its carton. His phone alerts him that it’s fifteen minutes to 9: his cue to venture out into the real world.

With a deep sigh and one last glance over his appearance in a circular mirror in the foyer, Yuta squares his shoulders, braces himself for the next ten hours, and locks the door as he leaves.

As soon as Yuta enters the shop, he’s bombarded with questions from all directions about which flowers are on sale and what color rose is best for such-and-such occasion. He politely handles a few customers with a plastered-on smile before Miss Yamada takes over and gives him a chance to make it to the back employee room. There, he nods his head at the new girl already putting her belongings into a locker. Sorn, or something? Today’s her first day, poor thing.

“Don’t be afraid to come get me if anyone asks you something you don’t know how to answer,” he tells her, and he can see some of the stress melt away from her body language. She nods politely to him before scurrying to the front to man the register. As for Yuta… he doesn’t take his time getting ready, per se, but he’s not exactly rushing to tie his green and white-striped apron. In this town people love their flowers, and somehow Miss Yamada lucked out in being the only florist around. Sale days are no joke. Still, he has to get going if he wants to be paid, so he dutifully dons his sunflower name tag and clocks in for his first shift.

Pricking fingers on thorns and getting paper cuts from cellophane are a daily occurrence at a flower shop, but the hectic pace set by 50%-off arrangements and discounted baby’s breath does a number to one’s hands, and by the time Yuta manages to slip out back on his first break he has three fresh Hello Kitty bandages adorning his fingers and tiny scratches across his knuckles. To be honest, he kinda likes it-- evidence of his hard work displayed proudly on hands that have been working to provide since high school ended. It was his idea to move into the little “big” city alone - to find a change of pace from the odd jobs he had in the rural part of town - and he refuses to waver in his insistence that his parents keep their money for themselves. He would hate to cause them any worry, especially after the accident. A florist isn’t all that far off from doing the gardening in his ex-neighbors’ yards, but this life is working out just fine for him. A little simple, but fine.

He reaches above his head and stretches, sucking in fresh air on a deep inhale, and looks out over the edge of the small cliff behind the shop at the ocean just a stone’s throw away. Not many people frequent the beach at this time of day, but there are still a decent number of figures bobbing around in the water and resting along the sandy shore. Perhaps they’re skipping school or work, but Yuta can’t judge them. The weather report was right about sunshine and clear skies, and he almost wants to go for a swim himself before returning to his flowers. Instead, he walks down their hill to the convenience store next door and buys a sandwich for lunch as well as some snacks for quick energy, making sure to purchase Miss Yamada’s favorite sugar cookies in case she notices that he’s taking fifteen minutes instead of ten.

With chips shoved into his mouth and one more look out across the shimmering sea, he finishes his break.

The rest of the day is a blur. A rush of people come into the shop around noon, presumably employees looking to pick up flowers for loved ones on their lunch breaks and denying Yuta his in the process. After that, there’s a stream of customers just steady enough that he never quite catches a moment to eat more than half of his sandwich, and by the time evening rolls around, another rush of people returning home from their own jobs keeps Yuta on his feet until Sorn urges him to leave as soon as the clock strikes 7.

“You’ve been working double by helping me out all day,” she says. “I can take it from here. You look like you’re about to die, seriously.”

On any other day Yuta might insist that he’s strong enough to keep going, but this time he gratefully accepts Sorn’s kindness and not-so-subtle jab at his appearance and clocks out. He exits through the back to avoid any more customers who might try and trap him as he leaves, and cool air immediately wraps around him in a refreshing gust as soon as he steps foot on the dirt path worn down among unkempt grass. A moment later he notices that although the sun has yet to fully set, everything seems darker than normal. Suddenly Yuta’s comforting gust turns into a billowing, howling wind and he looks up into a ceiling of low-hanging grey clouds.

“Huh,” he snorts. “Thanks for the warning, Mister Announcer.” Despite being sans umbrella or long pants, he still brings himself to the edge of the cliff and sits beside stray bunches of wildflowers. There should be about half an hour before the oncoming storm hits, he figures, and his legs could use a break before the short walk home. As usual, the only thing to watch from up here is the ocean, so he lets his feet sway gently in the wind as he observes how the water slowly churns and shifts to an ominous murky color, reflecting the daunting sky above.

He sits until the last minute - until the ocean below is crashing onto shore - when an expected rumble of thunder alerts him of when it’s time to go. With a sore and achy grunt, he pushes himself to his feet and brushes dirt from his shorts, though they’re already plenty stained with potting soil. A pull at his subconscious beckons Yuta to spare one last glance at the sea and a drop in his gut gives him pause; his brain yells at him to stop, but it takes another moment for his eyes to see why. Just slightly askew from the main shoreline in a small, circular border of black rocks is what appears to be a person floundering in the rising waves, body being helplessly tossed along with the current of a strengthening tide. The water is rushing into the crescent of rocks with only a small break in their formation as an exit, impossible to escape from as waves swoop in from opposite directions and lash against each other in a mad swarm. For a moment he tells himself that it’ll be alright, but the moment quickly passes.

He knows what it’s like to be trapped.

Yuta’s feet move on instinct. No one is around; everyone has retreated indoors and he is probably the only person witnessing a drowning and he needs to _go._ He’s bolting down the hill behind shop after shop and tripping over stones and his own feet and he can only hope that he’s fast enough. A paper sign once taped to a confectioner’s window stood no chance against the rising winds and it nearly slices Yuta’s cheek as he just narrowly moves his head out of its path. Breathing heavily in this weather is laborious as air fights against lungs but Yuta pushes forward, heart stuttering when he reaches sand.

 _“Hey!”_ he calls. He hopes his voice is traveling, but everything is so much louder by a raging sea.

He stumbles across loose sand and rubs quickly at grains that get in his eyes, not slowing down until he reaches the cluster of rocks. Their black coloring looks as dark as shadows in the lack of sunlight and they grow ominously shiny with every shower from a crashing wave. Yuta still has enough sense to toss his phone onto the sand before he carefully begins to climb, making sure his feet are secure in every step before pushing himself higher on the uneven stones.

“Hey!” he calls again. He slips and scrapes a knee against rough mineral, but he winces through the pain and clambers to the top of the border of boulders. Up close he can see that the victim is a young man - and he’s still alive - but he can’t seem to catch a second to think as he’s dragged down and spit out again by the sea over and over again, eyes wide and wandering in confusion.

Yuta inches as close to the edge of his rock as he dares and holds out a hand. “Can you reach me?” he shouts. He knows the man hears him, for he glances at Yuta with recognition showing through his fear, but he doesn’t reach a hand in return. Yuta’s eyebrows furrow. Rolls of thunder grow more consistent in the sky above as rain begins to fall. Soon it will be nearly impossible for Yuta to be of any help. He leans forward and nearly loses his balance, sucking in a startled gasp as he quickly draws his hand back to steady himself against such a wet surface, but then he’s offering an arm again.

“Please, you need to take my hand!” he begs. As if on cue: his words punctuated with a powerful wave bursting through the opening in the rocks, slamming into stone and creating a splash so intense Yuta must shut his eyes to brace against it. When he blinks away the salt from his lashes and his vision settles into focus, he doesn’t see the man.

He curses under his breath and uses the drumming of his heart to propel himself into the violent water, resisting the urge to blink as he squints into liquid darkness. He can hardly see his own arms as he reaches around blindly, relying on touch to find the man he hopes had not been dragged out into the roaring open ocean. He runs out of air and must surface. With each passing second of struggling against the waves’s natural anger he grows weaker, but he knows that the water in this area is shallow enough to handle, so he dives down again and this time aims for the ocean floor.

Farther below, the water is a little less wild. He continues feeling in every direction, but down here it is even harder to see. His heart sinks and his lungs beg for relief. Then, from the corner of his eye: a light faintly reflecting off of who knows what; a shadowed gold amidst deep dark. He pushes towards it and his hand brushes what feels to be an arm. Adrenaline pumping through his system, he hoists the body over a shoulder and kicks back to the surface, gulping and coughing when he breaks through the chaos and grabs hold of a cratorous rock.

“Okay,” he breathes as he pulls and climbs. “It’s okay-- we’re okay.” His arms ache and his eyes sting, but Yuta knows that he needs to get both of them out of that cove before the storm gets any stronger. Lightning is already flashing in the sky too close for comfort. Ignoring the tears to his skin as he bumps and fumbles on the rocks, Yuta uses his last push of strength to descend - and fall - over the edge onto the drier sand of the shore. He coughs and tastes seawater on his tongue, but his concern is the man now lying next to him.

He’s unconscious with a gash on his head unnervingly close to his right eye, but from what Yuta can see, the wound is superficial. The next thing Yuta notices is that the man is naked, but he is in no headspace to be flustered or shy. He pulls off his soaked shirt and briefly realizes that he’ll have to do laundry sooner than planned as he drapes the fabric over the man’s lap. The mind can focus on the most mundane of things during times of stress. Then, with another burst of strength brought on by the rain picking up and pelting against his bare back, he grabs his phone, hoists the man into his arms, and runs.

 _'Hospital,'_ he thinks. But the hospital is blocks past his apartment and he doubts his legs can get them that far in his current condition, especially not as the storm reaches its full force all around them. He hunches over to block raging winds as he struggles uphill; public transportation is minimal enough in his town on a sunny day. Labored breaths push their way up his throat and his body screams at him to rest, but Yuta knows he can’t stop. 

They pass no one on the streets, so they receive no help. Yuta begins to grow dizzy, but he can see his building approaching so he keeps going. Somehow - by some miracle - Yuta crosses the threshold of his apartment before falling to his knees, hissing at the hard contact with his untreated scrapes. Exhausted, he has to set the man down on the floor.

He takes a minute to catch his breath, and in that time he looks at who he’d pulled from the sea. The man seems to be around his age, though smaller in stature and size. His features are sharp but the aura around him is non-threatening. (Perhaps that is just because he’s unconscious, but Yuta tries not to think about the stranger in his home being dangerous. Besides, nothing crazy ever happens here). Aside from the cut on his face still leaking a few droplets of bright red, everything about the man seems pure: his skin is smooth and unblemished; his hair - wet and matted to his face - is a pale color, not quite grey but not quite blonde; even his eyelashes fan over his cheeks delicately despite what they have just been through. Yuta’s hand is halfway to touching them for himself before he regains his senses and pulls away. 

The man shivers and Yuta springs back into action.

He disinfects the man’s cuts as well as his own and plasters bandages wherever necessary. Then, with a tired groan, he lifts the man again and carries him to the bathroom, gently wiping sand and dirt from his body with warm water before drying him off completely. It’s a struggle to blow dry his hair, but Yuta fears what catching a cold could do in this situation. Finally, he carries the man to his room and sets him down carefully in his bed. He pauses, then quickly grabs a shirt and shorts to preserve the man’s dignity if-- _when_ he wakes up, and pulls the sheets up to his chin. As an afterthought, he adds an extra blanket just in case.

Yuta parts with the man long enough to clean and dry himself, then he’s back by the bed in sweatpants and a jacket, settling on the floor with his back against the mattress. He has no idea if the man will be okay but all he can do now is wait, either for the storm to die down or for his strength to return so they can make it to the hospital. He tries to stay awake, but it isn’t long until his body gives up.

As he sits, eyelids slipping closed and head drooping forward, a flash of lightning sends refracted orange across the floor.  
  


ζ|||ζ

Yuta stands thigh-deep in the ocean. The water is as calm and cold as always, and the sun beats down on the back of his neck relentlessly. _'I have to get out of here before the storm hits,'_ he thinks, but of course his feet are cemented in shimmering sand. He supposes he’ll just have to wait out the nightmare and hope that he wakes up earlier than he does some other nights. Has there always been a breeze tickling his arms?

_Splash._

Yuta looks down at the little golden fish who always circles his legs-- a brief beacon of hope, always fleeting. Never before had it hopped out of the water to surprise him with a mid-air flip, but that is what it does until it’s sure it has Yuta’s attention. Then it begins to swim away, only this time it feels as though it is guiding rather than leaving. Yuta shifts his weight tentatively forward and his heart skips a beat when his foot moves in the sand until it breaches the granulated hold and steps forward through the water. The fish turns back around and swims near his other foot, as if encouraging him to move that one as well, then continues forward, and Yuta eagerly follows.

The fish leads him across the ocean with its metallic scales catching the sun at every miniscule movement of its body, never fading from Yuta’s sight. Yuta’s breathing is labored and his muscles ache, but he can _walk_ and he never wants to stop. The closer they get to shore, the lighter Yuta’s chest feels. A smile spreads between his cheeks and by the time the water is only as high as his ankles he’s giggling like mad, elation bubbling up from his gut and pouring out into the salty air. He walks until the sand is completely dry, untouched by sea, and drops to his knees and then his back. He stares up at the clear blue sky and no longer feels suffocated by its unwavering stare.

From the corner of his eye he sees a cluster of golden sparkles retreating back into the ocean.

When Yuta wakes, the rain has stopped and sunlight pours through his window. He’s staring up at the ceiling, neck arched back uncomfortably against the edge of his bed, and at this angle it’s as if his glass koi is looking down at him from the center of its hazy orange glow. Birds chirp in the outside world and the sound of life once again decorates the streets below. A moment later, another face enters his line of sight, blocking out the sun so that it halos around the form of a person.

Yuta blinks in surprise as his eyes lock with wide, pitch black irises staring straight at him. It takes him another second to remember last night’s events and piece together who is currently in his bed. Awake, the man from the sea beautiful and bright-- even less threatening than when he was unconscious. Somehow, softness shows on his face and a gentle nature follows every wisp of cloud-like hair falling over his brows.

“Did you rescue me?” he asks, and his voice is sweet as rock candy.

Yuta turns his body and straightens out his head, but his gaze stays locked on the alluring stranger. “Yes,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

The man smiles, eyes crinkling endearingly. “Okay, thanks to you.” He looks down at the sheets pooled around his waist and rubs delicate hands along the mattress. “This is your… bed?” he asks. “And these…” he says, touching the T-shirt over his chest. “They are your clothes?”

Yuta feels his cheeks grow warm. “I-I wanted to make sure you were comfortable,” he defends, but the man doesn’t appear bothered so he pushes forward. “You were naked when I found you. Did you get carried off by the waves while swimming?”

The man laughs and Yuta can’t see how almost drowning would be funny. “You could say that,” he hums.

“It’s dangerous to be in the ocean when a storm’s approaching,” Yuta presses, concern finally showing through his tone.

The man appears amused. “I’ll keep that in mind next time,” he says. He reaches up to rub sleep from his eyes and pauses when he touches the bandage covering his gash.

“Ah,” Yuta murmurs. He sits up on his knees and peers at the site of the wound, but no blood or infection seems to be poking through his care. Still, Yuta is no doctor, and it might need proper treatment. “We should take you to the hospital now that the weather’s better.”

“No,” the man says quickly.

“No?”

“No hospital.”

Yuta frowns. He isn’t too fond of hospitals himself either, but sometimes they’re just necessary. “Your cut could scar,” he warns.

“Then it shall scar,” the man says.

Yuta wants to object, but the man does seem rather healthy for someone who nearly died not ten hours ago. He supposes he could always force him to go to the hospital if anything seems wrong… his limbs are rather lean and thin. “Will you at least tell me your name?” he asks instead, for he’s just beginning to realize that this man is not a familiar face-- an anomaly in a town like his.

The man flashes a smile, this time with pearly white teeth. “I’m Taeyong,” he says. “And you are Yuta.”

Yuta stares in shock. “How did…”

Taeyong points to the nightstand where Yuta’s phone rests face-up. “You received a message. _‘Yuta, hope you weren’t caught in the storm.’_ It was from your mother.”

Yuta grabs his phone and tries to laugh off the embarrassment of this stranger - of Taeyong - reading a text from his mom while he slept. “My parents worry a lot, what with me being out here all alone,” he babbles. “I mean, I’m not _alone_ -alone-- I have friends. Plenty of friends. And a job. Nice neighbors, too. But my mom texts all the time, ever since I moved out.”

Taeyong doesn’t seem phased by the prospect of overbearing parents. Instead his gaze lingers on Yuta’s phone clutched in his hands and suddenly he seems even smaller than he did before. “You must have a caring family.”

Yuta looks down at his phone then up again at Taeyong. “Yeah,” he admits. “They’re not bad.” The mood has shifted to something Yuta can’t quite piece together-- a morose silence that appeared out of nowhere. To break the awkward atmosphere, he asks, “Would you like a bath? I couldn’t really wash you very well last night. It must be uncomfortable.”

At the mention of a refreshing soak, Taeyong seems to regain some light. “Yes, please,” he says.

Yuta stands and takes a moment to stretch before heading to the bathroom. He quickly brushes his teeth and washes his own face, then he runs the bath’s faucet until its water is perfectly warm and lets the tub fill a little over halfway. By the time he returns to his bedroom, Taeyong is standing and peering out the window, absentmindedly stroking the koi trinket on the sill with the most fragile of touches. Yuta can’t help but notice how flawless Taeyong’s slim legs are. It’s as if they’ve never known hardship or pain, cuts or bruises, exhaustion or overwork.

Yuta clears his throat and Taeyong looks at him expectantly, sunlight cradling his cheek softly. “The bath’s ready,” he says. “Take your time. Leave the door unlocked, though. In case you need me.”

“Thank you,” Taeyong says happily.

Yuta takes his time throwing a satisfactory lunch together. He makes fresh rice and uses up the last of the veggies and pork his mom had dropped off earlier in the week. Proudly, he plates his own eggs and stir fry that didn’t turn out half bad, if he does say so himself. By the time his small kitchen table is set for two, he realizes that it’s been almost an hour since Taeyong receded to the bathroom and he hasn’t heard from him since. He wipes his hands nervously on his sweats and knocks on the bathroom door.

No answer.

Yuta’s heart skips a beat and he quickly turns the handle - grateful that Taeyong did leave the door unlocked - and lurches into the room. He swears he can’t breathe when he sees the flowing visage of Taeyong’s body fully submerged underwater and he stumbles against tiles wet with condensation on his way to the tub.

“Taeyong!” he calls, reaching a hand into the water and grabbing Taeyong’s arm. He pulls Taeyong’s torso up above the surface and is met with a very clear sputtering.

“Yuta?” Taeyong asks. “What’s wrong?” He blinks those impossibly black eyes framed by wet tendrils of blonde like nothing happened while blood pounds erratically in Yuta’s ears.

“What were you think--”

Taeyong shifts positions and Yuta’s protest dies in his throat when a glint in his peripheral catches his attention. He slowly drags his gaze past Taeyong’s dripping skin and over rippling bathwater, landing finally on the glittering scales of a tail. It’s as if liquid gold is spilling into the bathroom of Yuta’s humble apartment as the sparkling appendage breaks through steaming water and drapes over the rim of the tub. Large fins, slightly transparent with lines of cartilage running through their sun-colored membranes, sway gently with the movement of their metallic host.

All the fairytales told to him as a child couldn’t prepare Yuta for this confrontation of otherworldly existence. All the legends, the movies, his own assurance that something lived in the waters of his tiny seaside town-- none of it compares to seeing the fish-like tail that now resides where Taeyong’s perfect legs once existed.

Yuta should be in shock. He should be confused and breathless, if not afraid. And he is all of those things - and much, much more - but they are not what is at the forefront of his mind. Nothing is on his mind but flecks of gold shining through angry, murky ocean water. Yuta swallows. His eyes return to Taeyong’s, and now he sees a chilling blue reflected in their shadows. Yuta is a hundred emotions at once, but only one thought rages to his tongue and forces itself from the deepest reaches of his memories.

“It’s you,” he breathes, barely a whisper among the steam hanging in the air between them. “You’re the one who saved my life.”

Taeyong’s eyebrows are on the verge of furrowing before realization washes over his face and his expression settles into soft recognition; perhaps one of running into a long lost friend. “Well then,” he says, touching a warm hand to Yuta’s chest right between his lungs. “I suppose we’re even now.”

Lunch is rather uneventful, considering the fact that Yuta is sitting across the table from a mermaid. They eat in a comfortable silence (fortunately Taeyong is able to consume human food, as Yuta was told once Taeyong finished laughing at him) and Yuta’s mind has yet to betray him and completely lose it at the knowledge that all his stories of a human fish rescuing him from drowning weren’t, as his parents had insisted, his imagination. It isn’t until they’re both stuffed and relaxing on Yuta’s couch that they get around to attacking the elephant in the room.

“Are you magical?” Yuta asks, and Taeyong’s amused smile gives him butterflies.

“I suppose so,” Taeyong says. “I mean, I can’t cast spells or anything, but it’s impossible for my body to be only human.” Yuta glances at Taeyong’s legs, so he adds, “At least not all of the time.”

“How does that work?” Yuta asks. “Your legs. Do they appear when you’re out of water?”

Taeyong nods. He raises one leg into the air and looks it over, as if he’s still not used to it, and Yuta catches himself staring too.

“So do you come onto land often?”

“No,” Taeyong says quickly. “It’s dangerous.” He drops his leg and folds it beneath his body. “See, our tails don’t only come out in water when we want them to. Sometimes, if we are walking as humans, we are forced back into our natural form.”

Yuta frowns. “Why?”

Taeyong points up towards the ceiling so Yuta follows the gesture, but Taeyong laughs and brings Yuta’s head back down with a gentle pull on his chin. “No, not there. Outside, at night. As the sea is controlled by the moon, so are we. We cannot resist her at her fullest.”

Yuta nods slowly. It makes sense, in a way-- as much as any of this can make sense. “So, kinda like werewolves?” he asks, brain attempting to connect what he’s learning to what he already knows.

Taeyong tilts his head. “Were… wolves?”

“Yeah,” Yuta says. “You know-- humans who get bitten by cursed wolves, so every full moon they turn into a half-man, half-beast. Uncontrollable, feral monsters.”

Taeyong grows very concerned. “That’s awful,” he mumbles.

This time it’s Yuta’s turn to laugh. “Don’t worry,” he says. “They’re not real. Just myths. Although…” He settles into the cushions a little closer to Taeyong and takes his image in carefully. “You’re supposed to be a myth too. So who knows, I guess.”

Taeyong seems to be observing Yuta just as carefully. “We have stories about humans, too,” he says. “You’re supposed to be dangerous.”

Yuta’s mouth opens slightly in surprise. He supposes, just as humans have their own ideas about mermaids, so, too, would mermaids have ideas about humans. But as someone who wouldn’t hurt a fly (despite his lighthearted tough-guy persona), Yuta hadn’t considered that Taeyong might see him as something to be scared of.

“I don’t think you’re dangerous, though,” Taeyong adds, quelling the doubts forming in Yuta’s head. “You risked your life to save me, and you brought me somewhere safe. You’re only the second human I’ve met, but I would like to believe that everyone else is more like you.”

Yuta doesn’t have time to feel flattered as he comprehends everything Taeyong just implied. He frowns. “Taeyong,” he says, feeling a protective urge growing, “did you meet a bad human?” He can’t, for the life of him, imagine seeing something-- some _one_ as unbelievable as Taeyong and wishing him any harm.

Taeyong looks down and toys with the texture of Yuta’s fabric couch. “I’m here because of a bad human,” he says. “He stole me from my family and left me in the ocean.”

Yuta can barely fathom what Taeyong is telling him: first, the realization that mermaids exist elsewhere, even outside of open ocean waters; then, that Taeyong - probably the reason Yuta is still alive today - was never supposed to be here; and finally, that someone out there was ever so awful to Taeyong in the first place. “What…” he murmurs. “What happened?”

Taeyong looks back up at Yuta’s shocked face and doesn’t appear offended at Yuta pressing for more. He smiles - albeit sadly - and leans into Yuta’s side. Warm comfort, as opposed to cold terror. “I don’t remember much about where I was born,” he begins, and Yuta listens intently. “I just know that it was beautiful and hidden; a secret place home to my breed of merfolk for generations. For the short time I was there, life was peaceful.

“I was six when the bad man came. We call his type Takers-- humans who go where they don’t belong, looking for the rarest creatures that will make them the most money.” Taeyong lifts a leg again, swirling his foot around slowly. “I’m a koi,” he says, “and when I was young, I looked the size of a large, normal fish if you only saw my tail.” His leg falls back onto the cushions. “My tail…”

Yuta nudges Taeyong’s shoulder gently. “It’s beautiful,” he whispers.

Taeyong smiles again, but it’s still sad. “It’s a curse,” he says. “It’s bright. It never stops shining. It’s the color of riches and Takers will do anything to take gold for themselves.” He brings his knees to his chest and runs his hands along smooth calves. “We all tried to flee when he came, but I stood out. No one else has a tail like mine. He saw me and plucked me straight from the water, and when he saw that I wasn’t a fish but a half-human of legend, my gold doubled in his eyes.”

Yuta knows fear at that young age, and he wraps a gentle arm around Taeyong’s shoulders in empathy.

“I was small back then, so I could be smuggled on land in a covered aquarium,” Taeyong continues. “I lost track of how long I was in that dark, cramped place. Then I was on a boat on the ocean, and I had never known water to be so vast, let alone treacherous. Soon after we set sail a storm hit, and I thought the sea would eat me alive. The boat felt like it was being rammed on all sides by beasts and we got tossed around so much I didn’t know which way was up. Something must have broken, because the ship started to go down and my aquarium dropped to the ceiling-- or was it the floor? It shattered and cut me, but I escaped and managed to swim away. The Taker was not so lucky.”

He suddenly looks up at Yuta, blinking his large, black eyes. “And then I saw you.”

Yuta’s breath hitches. He hadn’t expected his storm to be Taeyong’s storm; for their encounter to be that perfectly timed and their fates so tightly intertwined.

“You were being eaten by the waves too, but you were young like me and you couldn’t deserve that fate-- not like the Taker did. So I fought my hardest and swam you to shore, as close as I dared to go.”

Yuta laughs incredulously and runs a hand through his hair. “You really are my golden fish.”

Taeyong cocks his head, amused. “Your what?”

“Forget it,” Yuta says quickly. “It’s just… something I see in my dreams.” He changes the subject and asks, “So you grew up here, in my ocean?”

Taeyong nods. “It was hard at first, because my body is not meant for seawater,” he says. “I don’t think I grew as much as I would have back home, but I survived because of the sea-merfolk who took me in. They taught me how to exist here, and that’s what I’ve been doing ever since.”

Yuta now understands the wistful look in Taeyong’s eyes when he’d mentioned Yuta’s family. He practically never knew his. “Have you tried leaving?” he dares to ask.

“Once,” Taeyong says, fingers beginning to fidget against his chest. “I waited until evening when no one was around and walked onto shore. I didn’t really expect to escape… I more or less figured I could get a look around at this strange world on land, and maybe figure a way out. But I didn’t know it was a full moon and my tail returned a mile from the ocean. I had to drag myself back without being seen, and it’s hard to breathe in that form without water on our skin. It was scary, and I never tried again.”

That night, Yuta treats Taeyong to his favorite fried chicken while they watch The Wizard of Oz, and when they eventually pass out from the day’s emotional roller coaster, this time they’re both huddled under the blankets together, Taeyong’s smooth legs pressed against Yuta’s.

Yuta has the next day off of work and he spends it all with Taeyong, who is torn about when best to return to the sea; especially after Yuta introduces him to dogs. Yuta’s neighbor across the hall recently had a baby and her husband is at work during the day, so Yuta often walks her cute little Pomeranian in the afternoons while she has her hands full. He enters the living room with a ball of fur in his arms to tell Taeyong that he’ll be back shortly, but the sparkle in Taeyong’s awe-filled eyes leads to the both of them walking the dog together. Taeyong doesn’t even mind having to wear Yuta’s old gym shorts from high school because they’re the only bottoms that will fit him, and Yuta doesn’t really mind the sight of Taeyong’s legs in the sun, either. They take their time exploring Yuta’s city and munching on snacks from a handful of shops, and Taeyong can’t stop smiling and laughing at the pup licking at his ankles.

“Do you have pets down there?” Yuta asks once they stop to let the Pomeranian drink from a bowl in front of a bakery, though it seems like a silly question.

Taeyong nods. “Merfolk can tame nearly everything underwater,” he says as he crouches and scratches fluffy ears, “but nothing we have compares to this.”

The rest of the way home Taeyong insists on hugging the dog close, and Yuta can practically feel the mermaid’s happiness radiating off of him in droves. Once the puppy is reluctantly returned, Yuta offhandedly mentions that Taeyong can see more dogs the longer he stays on land, and to his surprise, Taeyong agrees wholeheartedly to that being a great idea.

“I love the community that took me in and raised me,” he says, “but the ocean has never really been my home. I don’t quite belong there just as I don’t quite belong here on land, so what difference does it make where I stay, at least for a little?”

Yuta can’t think of an argument against that so he orders them a pizza, lets Taeyong try his first sip of alcohol, and begins explaining all the different types of Pokémon.

Yuta must work Thursday afternoon, and from the moment he steps out of his apartment building he can’t stop worrying about Taeyong. They’d determined that, health-wise, Taeyong is fine: Taeyong insisted that merfolk don’t get concussions, much to Yuta’s suspicion, and the cut by his eye is already starting to heal (though his rapid regenerating ability doesn’t stop the scar forming in its wake). Taeyong quickly learned how to use the microwave to heat up leftovers and he knows better than to try anything dangerous when Yuta isn’t around, but something about harboring a secret mermaid in your apartment just makes one more paranoid than usual. The fifth time he absentmindedly pricks himself with a rose thorn and yelps loudly in the middle of Sorn trying to count inventory, she tells him one more startling noise and she’ll stab him with the plant herself.

“Please don’t hurt him,” comes a small voice from the front of the shop.

Yuta turns and his mouth drops open at the sight of Taeyong standing there and his heart stutters-- at his sudden appearance at Yuta’s work; or at Yuta’s tank top hanging on his frame nearly covering the shorts barely reaching mid-thigh; or at the sight of him surrounded by flowers, their soft colors reflecting onto his gentle features. Perhaps all of the above.

“Taeyong,” Yuta manages to blurt out. “What are you doing here?”

“You told me about your job with the flowers, and I wanted to see them for myself,” Taeyong says. “They’re nothing like I have back home.”

Yuta can tell that Sorn’s about to put on her best customer service voice, so he quickly says, “Don’t worry, I got this. Continue with inventory.” He hurries over to Taeyong and guides him around a wall lined with sunflowers. “The sun will set soon,” he warns. “It’s not a full moon, but still…”

Taeyong smiles. “I know. I won’t be long.” He picks up a sunflower and observes it closely, and Yuta can’t say no when Taeyong looks back at him with fascination in his eyes.

They spend the next half hour wandering around the shop and looking at every flower type there, working together to create a small bouquet to Taeyong’s liking. There’s no rhyme or reason to it - it’s just all the flowers Taeyong thought were the prettiest - but it has its own charm, and the pure fondness in Taeyong’s eyes as he discovers the wonder of colorful foliage is all that matters in the end.

Yuta buys the bouquet for him, and Taeyong cradles it in his arms gratefully.

“Do you know the way home?” Yuta asks. He glances at the clock and chews his lip when he sees that he still doesn’t get off for another two hours.

“I’ll be okay,” Taeyong promises. “Could we have that chicken for dinner again?”

Yuta laughs and leans his arms against the checkout counter. “Yeah,” he says, trying to steady his concern. “I’ll grab some once I’m done here. You better not get lost, or you won’t be able to eat any.”

Sure enough, when Yuta unlocks the front door that night with one hand - boxes of chicken balanced in the other - Taeyong is there to greet him from his favorite spot on the couch, multicolored bouquet sprouting from a vase in his lap.

“Welcome home,” he says sweetly, face framed in petals, and Yuta feels his ears grow warm.

Another week passes with Taeyong quickly becoming a familiar presence in Yuta’s apartment. Whenever Yuta doesn’t work he walks Taeyong around town and tells him about his life, from growing up in a cottage in the countryside to knowing all the best spots in the city. In return, Taeyong tells him the unimaginable. Yuta learns that merfolk can have the genes of most water creatures one can think of; that dialects exist the farther away one swims, and Taeyong was lucky to be taken in by a community who speaks like him; even that the legend of sirens originated from ancient clans of carnivorous merfolk who prayed on human sailors. Yuta looks a bit queasy at that last one, and Taeyong soothes his discomfort with a crystal clear laugh and gentle hands on his face.

“I won’t consume you,” he says, but Yuta isn’t so sure about that.

Each day gone by draws Yuta closer and closer to Taeyong, and he finds himself wanting to make Taeyong’s experience on land - however long it may last - as memorable as possible. He shares with Taeyong his favorite foods; the beautiful glass trinkets lining rows and rows of marketplace stalls; popular culture and trends, many of which neither of them quite understand but enjoy laughing at together. After everything Taeyong has been through, Yuta wants to turn the second storm to bring them together into something positive that he’ll remember more than how he got the scar by his eye. He wants to see Taeyong smile, hear him laugh, watch him observe something new with almost childlike awe.

He wants Taeyong to be happy.

The only time Taeyong ever withdraws into himself - even just a little - is when Yuta gets a call from his parents. No matter what they do together-- no matter how much fun they have-- Taeyong will never truly be his happiest as long as he’s stuck out here, who knows how far away from his family. For Taeyong, eternal happiness is finding the place he belongs, from which he was stolen. Yuta’s head is filled with thoughts of Taeyong - of the mythical mermaid who saved his life and soaks in his bathtub - and what he deserves, which is so much more than Yuta’s tiny seaside town.

Yuta wants Taeyong to be happy, so he’ll do what it takes to make him happy.

One Friday, Yuta comes home a little later than normal with more purpose than usual. He calls for Taeyong, who comes padding out of the bathroom with wet hair and flushed cheeks, and unfolds a large piece of paper on the coffee table. It’s way too big for the furniture and half of it falls to the floor, and Taeyong seems overwhelmed by all the lines and words covering the crisp white sheet.

“What is this?” Taeyong asks, sitting on his knees on the carpet next to Yuta.

“A map,” Yuta says. “We’re gonna find your home.”

It takes Taeyong a moment to register the absurd plan. “My home?” he echoes. “That’s impossible. I have no idea where it could possibly be.”

Yuta shakes his head and adjusts himself into a cross-legged sitting position. “We know it’s accessible from land,” he reasons. “You said yourself that you were transported on land all the way until you reached the sea. And since you aren’t native to any oceans, we just need to find landlocked bodies of water big enough to hide a mermaid population. How many giant koi ponds can there be?”

Taeyong frowns and his brows furrow, and that’s the opposite kind of reaction Yuta expected to get. He presses on, trying to sound as convincing as he can.

“I’ve been saving money for years, so traveling shouldn’t be a problem. There’s nothing to spend my checks on here, anyway. I have too many vacation days at work to count, my landlord is giving me a discount on rent for however long I’m gone, and I’ve never been anywhere but right here. I can take care of all the human things and get you to baths when you need to soak. It’s a win-win for both of us.”

 _“It’s not!”_ Taeyong says suddenly, clutching his towel tightly in his hands.

Yuta blinks in surprise. “Isn’t it?”

“No,” Taeyong insists, voice cracking. He stands quickly and Yuta has to stumble after him to make it to the bedroom before Taeyong can shut the door on him.

“What’s wrong?” Yuta asks, heart dropping in his chest at hurting Taeyong with what he thought would be a plan worth celebrating.

“It’s impossible,” Taeyong repeats. He’s standing against a far wall, so Yuta sits low on the bed in an attempt to appear less threatening. “How can we travel a place so big, so aimlessly? Will you really fill my head with dreams and take responsibility when my hopes get crushed? It isn’t worth it, Yuta.”

Yuta can tell something is off. Taeyong, who survived so much when he was young and persevered so he could keep surviving; who risked his own life to save a child he did not know; who embraced this strange new world on land instead of fearing it - this Taeyong would never say that hope is worthless.

“I’m giving you a chance to look for your family,” Yuta says, frustration edging through his voice. He stands from the bed and moves forward, but Taeyong only sidesteps him. “You’ve never had an opportunity like this before. How can you say it’s pointless to _try?_ ”

“I don’t need to find them.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

“You barely know me, Yuta!” Taeyong snaps, and this tone is very, very new.

Yuta crosses his arms. “I know you enough.”

“You don’t!” Taeyong huffs with the stomp of a foot.

Yuta steps forward again. “Then _tell me_ what’s wrong!”

Taeyong backs away. “No!”

“Why are you being so difficult!”

 _“Because I’m scared!”_ Taeyong shouts, throwing his balled-up towel just past Yuta’s frame towards the bed.

Before Yuta can open his mouth to retort again, a _thump_ sounds in the room followed by a crash, telltale of the shattering of glass. They both turn towards the noise instinctually and see, broken into pieces on the hardwood floor, remnants of Yuta’s koi figurine. It no longer glows orange, now catching nothing but fluorescent light from its many spots below where the sun can’t reach. A dullness falls over Yuta’s room. It’s silent for a moment, save for heavy panting that dwindles into soft breaths as tension in the air chips away into pieces smaller than the glass at their feet.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong whispers. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

Yuta shakes his head and avoids rogue pieces of glass as he approaches Taeyong with open, welcoming arms. “It’s okay,” he says.

Taeyong accepts the embrace and buries his face in Yuta’s neck. He relaxes as Yuta strokes his foam colored hair. In a small voice, he asks, “What if no one remembers me?”

Yuta’s heart breaks, but he knows that it would be impossible for anyone to forget Taeyong. “Everyone will be so happy to see you, they’ll drag you into the water before you can even get your clothes off.”

Taeyong snorts and a breath of warm air tickles Yuta’s skin. “I can’t get lost again,” he says, open and honest and vulnerable.

“I’ll be there,” Yuta promises.

The weekend is spent planning for their journey and Yuta almost can’t believe that he’s about to embark on a quest with almost no direction in search of a family of reclusive mermaids, but whenever he steals a glance at Taeyong and sees brightness in his eyes, he knows that what he’s doing is right. With a bit more prodding at Taeyong’s memory, they deduce that his kidnapping could only have taken a few days at most and that the man embarked on foot - most likely along less-traveled paths to avoid detection - so Yuta marks out a chunk of the map for them to focus on. Then he searches for bodies of water within their parameters large enough to house merfolk, according to Taeyong’s input, and he saves each location in his phone. Finally, he searches for affordable inns and motels between each stop and figures out a path that would give them safe coverage (with private bathtubs) whenever they might need it.

“I’ll take a few weeks off work just to be safe,” he says, “but hey-- if all goes well, our trip could end even sooner.” Voicing this realization out loud leaves a strange sensation in his chest, but he focuses instead on Taeyong’s overjoyed smile and the infectious bubble of his laugh.

On Sunday evening they venture into the fashion district - a single street of boutiques and more casual clothing stores - and buy a few sets of outfits for Taeyong; enough to comfortably get him through a handful of days instead of leaving him in Yuta’s ill-fitting T-shirts and shorts from his teenage years. In one store, Taeyong is so enamored by the softness of a bright white bathrobe that Yuta gets it for him. (“It’ll come in handy after your soaks,” he’d reasoned). Yuta has a knapsack of his own to carry supplies in but Taeyong needs one as well, so they settle on a hand-me-down from a thrift shop still in remarkable condition. A quick run into a drug store provides them with all the toiletries they’ll need for the trip. For fun, they get hand-spun yarn bracelets from a little girl running a jewelry stand made of cardboard and glitter glue.

They’re about to head back home just after sunset when Yuta pauses in the middle of a sidewalk.

“Why’d you stop?” Taeyong asks.

“If we go,” Yuta says, “you might not see your adoptive family again.” He turns to face Taeyong. “Are you okay with this?”

Surprisingly, Taeyong smiles and nods and seems completely sure of his decision. “Everyone in the sea was so kind to me, and I’ll miss them dearly. But they all know what I went through, and they want me to find my parents almost as much as I do. If one of their own got stolen, they’d pray for their return every day.”

Yuta finds himself admiring Taeyong’s bravery more and more the closer they get to making their journey a reality.

Taeyong looks towards the ocean, clearly visible under the moonlight just down the road. “I think I would like to say goodbye now,” he says, “rather than right before we leave. I don’t want it to feel like such an end.”

Yuta shifts his bags to one arm and holds out his free hand. “It’s not a bad night for a swim.”

Together they walk down an incline until road turns into sand, fingers locked and shoes sinking into the loose hold of shore. Yuta guides them to a part of the beach where people rarely go: a row of docks housing fishing boats - rigs large and small, currently tethered and swaying rhythmically slow in calm waters. They walk to the end of a short pier and set their things down. Taeyong undresses and Yuta looks away as he’s handed articles of clothing. He doesn’t loosen up until he hears a splash, and when he turns Taeyong is gone and ringlets of disturbed water flow outwards from their secluded dock.

Yuta sits and waits.

Nearly two hours pass, but he doesn’t mind. The weather is fair and the current atmosphere is relaxing, and he has his phone for when he’s desperate for entertainment. Mostly he kicks his feet slowly in the water and looks up at the stars, briefly wondering if they will appear any different as they travel farther and farther away from his little speck-on-the-map town before beginning to doze off. He’s nearly out when something grabs at his ankle and water splashes against his leg, nearly reaching the shorts bunched up above his thighs. He shouts and kicks and scrambles back on rough planks of wood, heart pounding in his chest, and feels frantically at his foot to make sure all his toes are accounted for.

Then a familiar laugh echoes off the pillars beneath the dock and Taeyong lifts his upper body into view. “Boo,” he snickers.

Yuta rolls his eyes as he helps Taeyong back onto the dock. In the moonlight, the gold of his tail is absolutely heavenly. Its transformation into human legs begins fairly quickly (“If I had to control it, I might be able to postpone it for just a bit,” Taeyong remarks), and Yuta fumbles with their bags in search of Taeyong’s new robe. He finds it and wraps it around Taeyong’s body just before the scales finish disappearing on his thighs. Taeyong huddles into the comfort of the robe gratefully.

“I was able to see everyone,” he says. “They all congratulated me. It was… nice.”

Yuta rubs the robe’s sleeves against Taeyong’s arms to help dry him off. “I’m glad,” he says. “No regrets. You deserve this. I didn’t pull you out of the water for nothing.”

Taeyong laughs again and dabs a fluffy cuff against the water he’d splashed onto Yuta’s legs. “Same here,” he says.

On Monday, Yuta formally submits his request for time off and tells Sorn that he leaves Miss Yamada in her capable hands. Sorn tells him to stop being so dramatic and bring her a souvenir. He still has a couple days of work left before he leaves, so he and Taeyong take their time packing and they leave snack shopping until the last minute. By the time Friday rolls around, they’re comfortably geared up and ready to set out. A fleeting thought of how unthinkable this all is flashes through Yuta’s mind as he locks his apartment door behind them, but he finds himself just as eager to venture outside of town as he is nervous. As they catch a bus to the edge of the countryside and transfer to another that will take them to the next city over, he feels a sense of freedom wash over his body. Familiar scenery rushes past Taeyong’s window seat and takes lifelong security with it, replacing it instead with excitement and hope and mutual awe at the journey ahead.

Taeyong sees a deer for the first time and grabs Yuta’s hand in surprise.

By the time they step foot in a city much bigger than what either of them are used to, their bags rest proudly on their backs and sweat drips down their necks under the heat of an unwavering sun.

Their first stop on their aquatic tour is a failure, but neither of them grow very discouraged by it; they really weren’t expecting Taeyong to be from a lake in the middle of a park, but it was the closest body of water to Yuta’s town so they gave it a go anyway. Taeyong immediately knows they’re in the wrong place as soon as they approach the grass border of the manmade lake, but they stick around anyway to watch children play and ducks waddle in search of food from beneath the shade of a large tree. A man pushing an ice cream cart jingles along a nearby sidewalk and Yuta buys two orange creamsicles.

Once refreshed, they have no reason to stay in this city, so they continue on. Another bus and a substantial taxi ride land them in an even larger metropolis where there is no water in sight but there is a hotel waiting for their tired bodies. When they toss their bags onto shaggy carpet and fall into fresh white sheets, the anticipation of a newly burgeoning journey keeps a faint sense of excitement buzzing through the air, accompanying the sounds of cars and rowdy voices coming from the outside world.

“Are you hungry?” Taeyong asks, though only out of politeness. They’d both clearly heard the loud rumble of Yuta’s stomach, if Taeyong’s amused smile is any indication.

“I could eat,” Yuta admits. “But if we want to catch this train we don’t have time to stop.” As it is, they’re already cutting it close; the train should be arriving in just a few minutes, and they’ve barely made it to the ticket line.

Taeyong takes Yuta’s hand and pulls him away from the rows of box offices. “I want to have a meal together,” he says, and that’s all the convincing Yuta needs to allow himself to be guided around their current city’s Main Street in search of the most appealing menu. His stomach growls again and he supposes eating proper food is a good idea after scouring ponds in two separate neighborhoods before noon.

They wind up at a mom-and-pop Italian place with good pasta and even better dessert, and by the time they finally catch a later train and begin pulling out of the station, Taeyong is asleep against Yuta’s shoulder and Yuta is drunk on good food and happy travels.

Not every day is so comfortable and easy-going; they can’t all feel like extended vacations. They’re a week into the trip and they’ve sped their way through the more urban stops on their list, looping around the few possible lakes and ponds scattered among bustling city life. Now they push onwards to rural locations - farmlands, natural landscapes, small towns similar to Yuta’s. Taeyong is much more likely to hail from these parts, and that fact is not missed by either of them, even subconsciously. Whenever they close in on a body of water, tensions rise and anxiousness pounds at chests, only for it all to end in disappointment when no merfolk inhabit the pools at their feet. Yuta tries to keep spirits high, and he can tell that Taeyong doesn’t want to lose hope, but constant rejection will always hurt.

Today, Taeyong hurts the most thus far.

As they follow directions from a sweet auntie selling fruit in the market, Taeyong thinks he recognizes the countryside surrounding them. _“It’s familiar in the air,”_ he’d said, and the closer they get to a small mountain path, the more his pulse thrums in his veins. They hike for just over an hour, following a babbling brooke through serene treescapes and a peaceful atmosphere until they eventually come to the brooke’s source of origin. A small waterfall rushes over sparkling grey boulders embedded in the earth and crashes rhythmically against them before spilling into a large, luscious lake. Its water is crystal clear until it isn’t, deeper hue of blue in the center indicating that the depth is much larger than one might think. Bright green moss sprinkled with flowers grows along its edges and there are no open banks on any side; no easy way for a person to encroach on the painting-like scene in front of them without climbing the rocks and risking harm. Wildlife flourishes all around and the site is largely untouched by anyone other than the occasional respectful local.

Yuta glances at Taeyong. From what Taeyong told him about ideal merfolk environments, this lake checks every box. Taeyong seems nearly entranced: his eyes are wide, his feet inch towards the water, the air about him seems instinctual in nature.

“This feels right,” he murmurs. “I don’t remember a waterfall but-- but the greenery is there and-- the location is--” He suddenly drops his backpack onto the dirt and fumbles with peeling his shirt over his head.

Yuta can hardly keep up and just turns his head away right before Taeyong, nude and fearless, climbs onto a rock and leaps from a height any normal human would second-guess. When he hears a splash he faces the water and catches a glimpse of gold disappearing into deep, dark blue.

Forty minutes pass and Yuta assumes this length of time means something good, but when Taeyong finally swims back up to the surface there is no smile on his face; only dejection. Water drips from eyelashes cast downwards. Yuta stumbles through thick brambles and feels cuts even through his jeans, but he doesn’t care. He needs to be there when Taeyong reaches the water’s edge.

“I looked everywhere,” Taeyong says, voice small and defeated. He rests his head on his arms against a mossy rock, but otherwise does not leave the water. It’s as if he lacks the strength to do so. “Ten times-- I circled every nook and cranny ten times. No one ever lived here. No one.”

Yuta kneels in dirt and ignores the dampness soaking his legs, just as he ignores the water that splashes over his body when he pulls Taeyong into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Taeyong only clutches to his shirt as his shimmering scales disappear from his quivering legs.

That evening is quiet and solemn.

Yuta convinces Taeyong to sit and eat by the lake while they dry off - tells him to replenish his energy for the walk back to town - but the meal lacks their normal chipper chatter. Their return hike feels swallowed by the deafening silence of the nature around them; not even a rabbit scurries in the bushes or dashes across their path. By the time the sun sets, Taeyong is already curled up in bed and doesn’t respond when Yuta excuses himself to bathe. Yuta is left alone with his thoughts, steam from his bath filling his lungs every time he sighs on a deep inhale.

It isn’t fair. Taeyong never should have been taken from his home. He shouldn’t have to be in this situation, searching and searching desperately for where he belongs only to have his heart crushed every day. Irrationally, he even thinks that the lake they visited shouldn’t exist if it’s going to hurt Taeyong so badly. Selfishly, he hates the lake for not being what they’re searching for, because Taeyong’s pain is his pain and his chest _aches._

When he enters the bedroom in pajamas with a towel over his hair, the lump in Taeyong’s bed is moving. It takes him a second to realize that Taeyong is crying, miniscule sobs shaking his lithe frame beneath a floral duvet. Yuta is there in an instant, lifting the covers away from Taeyong’s body and wiping his cheeks with his towel. He wants to tell Taeyong that it’s okay, but it’s not; he wants to say that they’ll try again tomorrow, but he doesn’t want to emphasize today’s failure.

“I really wanted it to be the one,” Taeyong chokes out. “Why couldn’t it be the one?”

Yuta pulls Taeyong up and lets him sniffle against his chest. He can feel tears pricking at his own eyes and doesn’t bother blinking them away.

“I thought I was strong,” Taeyong continues, cut off by a cough before adding, “but this is hard. I want to give up. It’s so hard, Yuta.”

Yuta lets out a shaky exhale and his tears fall onto the sheets. “You are strong,” he says. “Taeyong, you’re the reason I’m here. You-- You risked your life to give me another chance at mine.” At that, Yuta feels Taeyong’s arms slip around his waist. “You could have given up all those years ago, but you didn’t. You embraced the reality you were forced to live in and you grew into the sweetest, gentlest person I know.”

Muffled into Yuta’s shirt, Taeyong mutters, “‘m not a person.”

Yuta lets out a short, breathy laugh. “You’re in a league of your own, Taeyong. You’re out here on this adventure that frightens you because you’ve set your mind on finding your family. And they’re going to be so happy-- god, they’re gonna love you, Yong. And I’m not giving up-- I won’t stop because you’ve never stopped.” He clenches his eyes shut and shudders, then presses his lips softly against Taeyong’s light, silky hair.

When Yuta opens his eyes, he’s struck by the beauty of an exhausted, emotional Taeyong: face flushed, tears like sparkling diamonds adorning his cheeks, eyes brighter than the moon that binds him to the sea. He rubs a thumb over a track of tears on Taeyong’s cheekbone, but more just fill its place. He presses both palms against Taeyong’s face and wipes away tear after tear as Taeyong takes in his words and pays him back in a cathartic release of overwhelming feelings. He looks at Yuta with such open trust in his black irises - such affection and gratitude - that Yuta feels himself leaning in until he’s kissing one of the diamond tears trickling down Taeyong’s cheek.

Yuta pauses and shares a look with Taeyong, then he leans in again, and again, and again; he peppers kisses over Taeyong’s flushed skin, his own tears falling onto his knuckles as he holds Taeyong close, and he feels Taeyong grip his shirt, anchoring them together.

That night, Yuta’s bed stays undisturbed as they fall asleep huddled together under Taeyong’s covers.

By morning, Taeyong’s mood has lifted and he rises first. Yuta eventually wakes to Taeyong gently shaking his shoulder and smiling down at him, and he has such an intense urge to kiss Taeyong’s cheeks again, but he doesn’t; he’s afraid of overstepping a boundary. Instead, he smiles back and stretches languidly.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks.

Taeyong nods. “I want to continue on,” he says. “I want to keep going.”

They find a crêpe stand in town for breakfast and take their time admiring hand-carved wooden trinkets and woven baskets in the marketplace. It’s as if they both unspokenly acknowledged that they deserve a pleasant morning after the turmoil of the previous day; however, neither of them care to stay too long in the place that caused said turmoil, so by noon they’re off, catching another train to a county of farms about an hour away.

The farmland quickly proves to be a bust; most of the lake they’d come to scout had to be dammed up because of flooding, and it is obvious the moment they step foot on its banks that no merfolk could inhabit the controlled section that is left. Such an abrupt failure brings out the faintest beginnings of defeat in Taeyong’s eyes, and Yuta desperately wants to prevent him any more anguish.

“Let’s move on,” he suggests. “There’s nothing else for us here.”

Taeyong tilts his head. “I thought we were going to stay the night.”

“I’ll just cancel the inn reservation,” Yuta says with a wave of his hand. “It’s only 1 in the afternoon. If the lake was still here it would have taken the rest of the day to search, but it’s not, so why waste time?” He looks at the notes in his phone then shows the screen to Taeyong. “The next town is only twenty minutes away.”

Taeyong nods and they return to the train station.

“I’m sorry,” the woman at the ticket booth says. “Trains don’t run often out here. Another one won’t come for two more hours.”

“How about buses?” Yuta asks.

The woman shakes her head apologetically. “We don’t have any buses that go outside of our community. Taxis are expensive as well. Though,” she adds, “if you would like to walk, it only takes about an hour, and it’s a really beautiful walk, too.”

They thank the woman and head into the shade of a nearby awning. Yuta looks at Taeyong, who seems on the fence.

“I don’t know,” Taeyong says slowly. “It almost doesn’t seem worth it.”

“If we wait for the train, we won’t have enough daylight once we get to the next lake,” Yuta points out. “It’s the biggest one on the map. But if we leave now, that’ll give us at least another hour and we might be able to search the whole thing before sunset.” He grows excited at his own idea, eager to bring Taeyong even a smidgen of relief as soon as possible. “She did say it’s a beautiful walk.”

Taeyong hesitates, but Yuta’s enthusiasm must show on his face because he laughs and takes Yuta’s hand. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s do it.”

The weather is hot, but not unbearably so. A slight occasional breeze keeps the air breathable as they follow a worn dirt road through town and out into empty grassland. It really is beautiful: wildflowers of every color bloom sporadically all around them; birds soar overhead from tree to tree as they sing into the wind; vibrant green rustles and sways at their ankles like an active sea parting just enough to let them through. They walk together hand in hand and enjoy a comfortable near-silence surrounded by tranquility and enveloped in stuttering heartbeats.

A ways into their trek, Yuta is about to comment on the butterflies fluttering ahead of them when he notices a strange look on Taeyong’s face.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. “Do you need to rest?”

“No,” Taeyong says. “It’s fine-- I’m not tired. I just… feel odd.”

“Here.” Yuta takes off his backpack and offers Taeyong his water bottle. “Maybe you just need to stay hydrated.”

Taeyong accepts the drink and downs the rest of it before sucking in a large breath of air. He insists that he’s alright so they continue on, and soon peace returns to their walk, but it doesn’t last long.

Ten minutes later, the sky begins to get darker, ever so slightly, and it happens gradually enough that neither of them think much about it; it’s growing later in the day, so this makes sense. But then it continues getting darker, and that isn’t right. Yuta checks his phone and it’s only 1:40 in the afternoon. He looks up, expecting to see signs of an oncoming storm, but the sky is completely empty. Instead, he sees what might be a wondrous occurrence to anyone else on any other day.

For Yuta, his heart sinks at the start of a solar eclipse.

The moon stands proudly in the clear blue sky, prominent and bold, already pushing its way in front of a burning sun. Only a fraction of the sun is blocked out, but that will change quickly. Yuta looks at Taeyong and he doesn’t need to ask if he noticed the celestial movement occurring too. Taeyong looks dazed, focus just slightly blurred; the beginnings of being unable to control his body, as if his legs could give out at any moment.

Yuta wants to curse at himself for not knowing that this would happen. He’d been so focused on their trip that he neglected keeping up with daily news, but he should have paid attention; he should have considered every little thing that might occur. This is what he’s here for - this is why Taeyong needs him - and he failed. His brain races back to high school science. He knows that solar eclipses don’t last long and that totality is rare, but if Taeyong is forced into his natural state out here in the middle of a sweltering dirt road without any water in sight…

“Taeyong,” he says, stopping in his tracks and holding Taeyong by the shoulders. “Yong, look at me.”

Taeyong blinks and his eyes need a moment to adjust on Yuta’s face in front of his. “I feel odd,” he repeats.

“This is an eclipse,” Yuta says. “The moon is going to block the sun. Do you know what this will do to you?”

Taeyong nods slowly. “There are stories… about the moon battling the sun. She wants us in the water. In her kingdom. But I’ve never been on land to see it. My legs are so tired, Yuta.”

“I need you to resist it for as long as possible,” Yuta says, giving Taeyong a squeeze. “Can you do that for me? Can you try?”

Taeyong nods again. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows hard.

“We need to hurry,” Yuta presses. “We need to get you to water. This thing could last for minutes and your skin is already so dry out here-- it’ll be okay but we need to hurry.” He grabs Taeyong’s hand and sets a quick walking pace, but it’s not looking good. Taeyong won’t be able to keep up for long.

After a few minutes Taeyong stumbles and Yuta barely manages to steady him before he falls. Yuta makes the hasty decision to carry Taeyong. He has Taeyong hold his backpack against his front then hoists him up into his arms, hooking one hand under his legs and the other around his back. Taeyong’s body hums; every molecule of his being is shouting for water.

Yuta runs as fast as he can carrying the extra weight. His mind flashes back to the day he met Taeyong and carried him home, and he clings to that memory in hopes of making it to where they need to go, just as he did back then. The sky gets darker but the heat doesn’t subside, and Yuta can feel sweat rolling uncomfortably over every expanse of his skin, but he doesn’t stop; he pushes through the burning in his legs and runs.

They’re so close to the next town that Yuta is starting to see buildings in the distance - small traditional homes alongside a few newer businesses - but Taeyong is struggling to keep it together as he grips the front of Yuta’s shirt and his thighs shake uncontrollably.

“Just a little farther,” Yuta pants, more breath than voice. “Keep going, Taeyong-- you can do it.” There are no pools, ponds, or lakes as they make it to the outskirts of town, so Yuta keeps running towards their hotel. An old sign nailed into a slanted wooden post points him in the right direction and he ignores the shocked expletives from the locals he barrels past on his way. By the time he bursts through the hotel entrance, the eclipse has reached its fullest point.

The woman at the front desk jumps in surprise, but she still tries to engage in pleasant small talk about what is happening outside. Yuta doesn’t mean to be rude, but he does not have time for this.

“My friend needs a bed,” he lies quickly. “Please, our room-- it’s Nakamoto.”

“Oh, yes… That will be room 104.” The woman fumbles with a set of keycards and as she finds theirs, she asks, “Does he need a doctor?”

“No,” Yuta says, managing to reach one of his hands out enough to take the key. “Just rest. Thank you.” He turns away from the desk and hopes that the woman didn’t notice the golden flecks beginning to freckle Taeyong’s thighs.

“I can’t,” comes Taeyong’s voice against Yuta’s chest, strained.

“You did it,” Yuta murmurs as he rounds a corner and heads carefully down the sleek wooden floor of a long hall. “You can relax, Yong.”

Taeyong lets out a long sigh and his body droops as tension flows out of every joint. His legs press together, bound by an invisible thread, and scales creep over his skin, wrapping him in brilliant gold. The tearing of fabric can be heard as Taeyong’s shorts get pushed out of the way of the forming appendage they cannot contain. A faint glow seeps out of every crack between Taeyong’s scales and Yuta can feel a change in the way the weight feels in his arms; an inhuman, unique distribution of gravity. Long fins flow down to Yuta’s legs and a metallic coolness surrounds the tail as a whole.

Yuta opens their door as soon as Taeyong’s chest begins to stutter in ragged breaths.

“Are you still with me?” he asks, pushing through the door to the bathroom. “I’m getting you water now. Hang in there, okay?”

Taeyong nods and, though it must be difficult, he keeps heavy eyelids open to look at Yuta. When Yuta hisses in pain as he jams a finger against the bathtub’s faucet, he moans in sympathy. At the sound of running water, his tail twitches.

Once the tub is filled halfway, Yuta gently places Taeyong inside. Blood pounds in his ears as he watches Taeyong squirm in the rising water, tail swishing slowly, as if easing itself in. Then a calm washes over Taeyong and he sinks further into the tub, eyes fluttering shut and hands running over his arms, pressing water against his skin. Yuta falls back onto his butt, exhausted. Taeyong stays submerged long after Yuta shuts off the faucet, and when he finally comes back up he looks refreshed, albeit a bit tired. Yuta helps him peel the soaking T-shirt from his upper body and once it’s off, Taeyong smiles and holds one of Yuta’s hands in both of his.

“Thank you,” he says, and his gratitude makes Yuta sick.

 _’There’s no reason to thank me,’_ Yuta thinks. _'Not when it was my fault.’_

Taeyong brings Yuta’s knuckles to his lips, but before he can make contact Yuta moves his hand away, brushing hair from Taeyong’s face and then pulling back completely.

“Take your time in here,” Yuta says. “Call if you need me.” He stands and walks stiffly from the bathroom, muscles tight after being used in such an intense burst. The door is left slightly ajar, but other than that Yuta feels like he doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near Taeyong. As he sits heavily on his bed, his insides churn and loathing rages behind his sinuses.

Taeyong steps into the bedroom about half an hour later and in that time Yuta hadn’t moved from his perch on the edge of a bed, elbows pressed into his thighs and head cast downwards. Taeyong stands in front of him with only his bath robe wrapped around his body, skin dry but properly nourished, and Yuta’s jaw clenches.

“Do you want to bathe?” Taeyong asks.

Yuta just shakes his head.

Taeyong kneels in front of him and frowns when Yuta glances away. “What’s wrong?” When Yuta doesn’t answer, Taeyong places a palm to one of his cheeks and turns his head forward. “Talk to me.”

“You could have died,” Yuta says suddenly. “You almost died.”

Taeyong swallows. “I didn’t. It’s over now. You saved me.”

“No,” Yuta mutters, holding Taeyong’s wrist and moving his hand from his face. “I’m the reason it happened. It’s my fault.”

“It isn’t,” Taeyong insists.

“It is. We weren’t supposed to be-- we should have stayed in the last town. We could have caught tomorrow’s train like we planned and when the eclipse happened, you would’ve been in a hotel, safe and sound. I pushed you to keep going and I got us stuck out there.”

“Yuta…” Taeyong starts, but Yuta doesn’t stop.

“Hell, this whole trip was my plan,” he scoffs. “You never considered doing something like this until I came along and thought it would be a good idea to take a mermaid so far away from water during summer. I said it was for you, but every day I put you in danger. I thought, hey, wouldn’t it be cool to travel to all these new places with a magical creature? Get out of my stupid little town for once? I would be helping someone, so that makes the trip a hero’s journey. A fun adventure.” He drops Taeyong’s wrist and rubs at his face. “I’m not good for you.”

Taeyong frowns and pulls Yuta’s hands away, forcing eye contact while Yuta blinks in surprise. “Don’t say that,” he says. “Yuta, I never considered looking for my family because it would have been futile on my own. You left your job, your home, your _life_ to make this possible for me. And I’ve had so much fun here-- every day I’m so happy because I’m spending it with you, doing things I never imagined I’d be able to do. You keep praising me for being brave but you don’t realize how brave you are; how selfless and caring and compassionate. Why can’t you see that?”

Yuta supposes he just never had a chance to see himself in any way other than normal; a small-town kid going through the motions of everyday life and wondering if there’s more out there, but tucking the possibilities away - locked up with the memory of a golden fish. Taeyong brushes thumbs against his cheeks and he realizes that he’s crying.

“I was so worried,” Yuta says. “If something happened to you because of me, I…”

Taeyong shakes his head and stands, bringing Yuta in against his warm, beating chest. “This is my choice, too. I would gladly risk my life if that means I might find my home again. I trust you, Yuta. I wouldn’t be here with anyone but you.”

Yuta wraps his arms around Taeyong’s slim waist and holds on tight. He’s tried so hard to be what Taeyong needs, that he neglected his own feelings; but Taeyong is there, filling in all the gaps he didn’t know he had. Taeyong, always so unapologetically vulnerable yet strong. Taeyong, full of surprises, lifting Yuta’s chin and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Yuta indulges for a moment then pulls back. “Uh, kissing there-- it means…”

“I know what it means,” Taeyong laughs, dark eyes twinkling in the dull lighting of a cheap hotel. He leans in and kisses Yuta again and his mouth is warm and gentle and confident. They only pause to toss Yuta’s shirt aside then they’re kissing some more, Yuta’s hands wandering along Taeyong’s bare torso and Taeyong’s cupping Yuta’s face affectionately. Yuta crawls back on the bed and Taeyong follows.

“And this?” Yuta murmurs, lips shifting to Taeyong’s jaw.

Taeyong reaches down and pulls his robe off, dropping it on the floor with Yuta’s shirt. “I know,” he says as Yuta’s hands rub at the backs of his thighs.

They kiss again, sharing human breaths and desperate touches.

Yuta wakes the next morning around 5. The sun has yet to rise and the air in the room is cold, but he doesn’t want to get up to turn on the heat or put on some pants. Instead, he pulls a sleeping Taeyong closer to his body and takes in his warmth, both on his skin and in his heart. Unable to resist, he places a kiss to Taeyong’s forehead.

Taeyong smiles and drapes an arm over Yuta’s hip. “Morning,” he mutters, eyes still closed.

“Did I wake you?” Yuta asks, though he doesn’t stop peppering Taeyong with kisses now that he knows he won’t be a disturbance.

“No,” Taeyong says. He yawns. “We slept early yesterday. I’ve been awake for a bit.”

Yuta feels his cheeks flush when he recalls how dead tired they both were after the stress of the solar eclipse and the physical intimacy that followed. “Worth it,” he says, voice muffled against Taeyong’s hair.

Taeyong finally opens his eyes and laughs at Yuta’s clinginess. “Are you trying to tire me out again?” he asks.

Yuta blushes some more and buries his face in the crook of Taeyong’s neck. “As much as I’d like to,” he says, “I really need that bath now. I never took one yesterday. I’m super gross.”

Taeyong strokes Yuta’s back. “Only a little gross,” he says. “I don’t mind it. But I could go for a soak.”

They wind up in the small bathtub together, just as glued to each other as they were in bed, and Yuta wouldn’t have it any other way. Taeyong rests against his chest and their fingers interlock atop the tub’s rim. He stares in drowsy amazement at Taeyong’s tail, brilliant gold sprouting from the water and hanging over the far end of the tub. On either side of it, his own legs are bent to fit in the basin meant for one.

“When should we visit that big lake?” Taeyong asks.

Yuta presses a kiss to his shoulder and drags his lips up to Taeyong’s ear. “Tomorrow,” he says. “Today we do absolutely nothing at all.”

Two weeks into their trip, Yuta and Taeyong are on their way to the very last lakes on the map. A mix of emotions surrounds them: hope, because if no other stop has worked thus far then surely things are looking good for this one, no? There is also negativity inching its way into their minds, unavoidable with the amount of misses they’ve had day after day. And then there’s the regret that neither of them want to address: knowledge that even if they succeed, they will part ways; lingering thoughts of _is this worth it?_ But at the end of the day they both know that this journey deserves all they can give, so they push forward.

On a train to a small village at the base of historic mountains, Taeyong dozes against Yuta’s shoulder. Occasionally Yuta leans in and kisses his head, but otherwise he tries not to be a disturbance. He takes this chance to look at Taeyong; to sear every detail of his person into his brain, from his soft eyelashes to his thin fingertips. Everything about Taeyong makes him want to share what’s bubbling up in his heart, but for now he lets Taeyong rest.

When the train finally pulls into a homely, one-track station, the noise of the bellowing whistle pulls Taeyong from his nap. He blinks slowly and smiles at Yuta while his eyes adjust to the bright afternoon sun streaming through the window. Yuta puckers his lips and Taeyong gives him a peck.

“Hey,” Yuta says. “We’re here.”

They gather their belongings and shuffle out of the train into the heat of a warm, humid day. The train station is made mostly of wood and, at most, there are ten other people disembarking along with them. A friendly station employee points them towards the exit, but the stairs leading away from the tracks are easily spotted on such a small platform. As they head to the exit, a voice over a single loudspeaker announces that the train will be refueling before heading back the way it came. They are so far into small village territory that this is the last stop on this line. To travel the distance between here and the ocean bordering Yuta’s home on foot in only a few days is a stretch, but it’s a possibility they had no choice to consider.

If anything, this last stop is a scenic one. The town had been built right up against a forest and most of the surrounding nature hasn’t been disturbed, instead allowed to grow with the brick homes laid out among it. Neither Yuta nor Taeyong have ever seen so many rich shades of green in one place, or so much care taken to upkeeping the perfect serenity of natural life. A tiny river weaves through the streets, disrupted only by red, paint-chipped bridges built carefully over it. Colorful kites fly from roofs of family-owned businesses and paint the sky rainbow. Many people walking by are dressed in traditional clothing, exquisite in craftsmanship but proudly handmade. There is even a deer creeping quietly through the trees behind a house, unafraid of being so close to a community so harmonious.

“I like this,” Taeyong whispers, as it seems out of place to speak loudly alongside the musical chirping of cicadas. “It feels like anything can exist here.”

Truly, there’s something in the air; something that encourages a sense of contentment and home. It’s even quieter than Yuta’s city, but what it lacks in urban excitement it more than makes up for in being the kind of place one dreams about escaping to on the hardest of days. Plus, the farther they walk into town, the more apparent it becomes that this village does not lack in modern day amenities, such as popular stores and trendy cafés; they are just blended in so well with luscious wildlife that none of it appears commercial or out of place. In a way, this place’s existence almost seems impossible. Too good to be true.

“Our inn should be right up there,” Yuta mentions as they pass a quaint library with a tranquil rock garden out front. The organic landscape of the area was kept completely as is - buildings just plopped right on top of it - so they wind up climbing a small hill to get to their hotel, pavement turning into a bumpy dirt road as soon as they reach the mound’s base. It’s a one story building made mostly of deep, dark wood, and inside there is nothing more than the bare necessities; simple yet functional, beautiful yet charming. Even the man at the front desk seems pretty in a way unique to this town, lean and tall with piercing large eyes and hair rivaling a raven’s feathers.

“Good afternoon,” he greets as they approach, voice unassumingly polite. He smiles and bares all his teeth. “Checking in?”

“Two beds for Nakamoto” Yuta says. To his right, Taeyong leans in to peer at a stone candle holder in the shape of a serpent-like dragon sitting on the concierge’s desk.

The man’s unwavering gaze shifts to Taeyong and he hesitates before turning his smile back to Yuta. “Yes, of course.” He taps away at a computer that honestly seems out of place in such an environment, then his expression turns apologetic. “I’m sorry, Sir,” he says. “Looks like there was a leak in your bathroom so that suite is temporarily unavailable. We have another room open, but there is only one king bed rather than two queens. Is that alright?”

Yuta can’t exactly say that the more water in their bathroom the better, so he just shrugs and looks at Taeyong. “I don’t mind,” he says. “Do you?”

Taeyong finally peels his stare away from the stone dragon and shakes his head. Out of sight, covered by the counter, he holds Yuta’s hand. 

“Excellent,” the man says, smile returning. He makes some changes on his computer then selects the proper key for their new room: an actual bronze key, polished until it shines. He steps from behind the desk and motions with his hands. “If you’ll follow me, please.”

They’re led down a red-carpeted hall and each window they pass shows off gorgeous views of the town below, though despite the scenery, Yuta can’t help but notice that their guide seems just as much of an anomaly as the nature of said town. His willowy body makes each of his movements appear graceful, long legs and thin waist gliding him through the room. Yuta is beginning to wonder if everyone at this inn is so mysteriously perplexing, but as they round a corner the receptionist bows at a passing man whom he addresses as _“boss”_ \- a short, stocky, normal-looking older guy who definitely isn’t anything special - so Yuta supposes it’s just him who evokes similar feelings to when Yuta observed Taeyong’s human form for the first time. Maybe it’s a sign that they’re in the right place.

They stop in front of a door painted blue and the man hands over their key. “If you need anything, you know where to find me,” he says.

“Thank you,” Taeyong responds, and once again the man seems to observe Taeyong with eyes that could swallow a soul if he stared long enough.

“You’re welcome.”

The inside of the bedroom is as charming as expected: the furniture is antique but well taken care of; old fashioned silver trim details much of the drawers and wall baseboards; the single bed is dressed in white sheets with a patterned quilt overlay, and the headboard is mahogany carved into intricate depictions of flowers on top. The bathroom floor is tiled but the walls are paneled wood, and the bathtub and sink are white porcelain with more silver accents. Along the countertop are decorative bowls and more stone figurines, though these are all human, unlike the dragon at the front desk.

With still a week left until Yuta must return home (with or without Taeyong; he isn’t sure which option he’d prefer), they decide to take their time in this last town. They wash up to unwind after traveling then sit together in bed as they only half pay attention to whatever dramas are showing on their small TV. The rest of their attention goes to toying with interlocked fingers and sharing leisurely kisses until dinner time. There is a dining hall at the back of the inn with surprisingly good food, and they stuff themselves full before knocking out in their single king bed.

They’re off to a slow start the next day, but neither of them care. They eventually eat breakfast at the dining hall at 11 then sit until noon in the garden: a meticulously kept landscape bordered on all sides by the square-shaped inn, filled with vibrant flowers, stone bird feeders, and a little pond covered with lily pads. Yuta jokes that Taeyong could be from that pond, which earns him a shove. He takes dozens of photos - most of them of Taeyong - and Taeyong doesn’t seem to mind Yuta wanting to document him as much as he can. Finally, they set out for the day, planning on finding one of the two lakes nearby, nodding to the man at the desk as they leave. The closest one can be seen from the hill they’re standing on, just on the other side of a schoolhouse, so they begin to walk.

“It would be nice if this was your hometown,” Yuta remarks as they stop at the edge of the lake. 

Taeyong agrees.

When he surfaces from the water fifteen minutes later, Yuta says, “Don’t worry, we still have tomorrow.”

Tomorrow starts the same way the previous day did: relaxing morning, late breakfast, photos taken to commemorate how beautiful Taeyong looks among nature. This time they stop to ask the concierge how to get to their second lake, and he tells them which bus to take to the edge of town and how far to walk across an area known for its deer population.

“That’s an odd place to go as a tourist,” he remarks.

“We like water,” Yuta says.

While the short trip to the lake is pleasant and the sight of deer roaming freely is a striking one, Taeyong once again surfaces with a frown on his face, and this time Yuta is out of encouraging, hopeful words. There are no more lakes to check. No more ponds, waterfalls, or wetlands. No more rivers or streams to follow until they find where the water pools. With a final failure, their quest is over.

When they get back to the inn the same man is at the front desk, as he apparently always is. He looks over their expressions with his ever-seeing eyes but says nothing, and for that Yuta is grateful. He wants to be the one to listen to Taeyong’s woes and share his misfortune, if only to take away even a fraction of his pain.

In their room, once Taeyong soaks for however long he needs to be alone, they swallow each other’s moans under a shield of thin white linens.

Surprisingly, Taeyong is the one urging Yuta out of bed the next morning. He wakes first to the sounds of birds chirping outside their window and he slowly pulls Yuta from the grip of sleep with soft kisses to his cheek and chin; warm presses of lips that welcome Yuta back to the land of the living.

“I want to explore the town,” Taeyong whispers against Yuta’s jaw. “I don’t want to end our adventure on a bad note.”

Yuta groans in his drowsy state and slings and arm over Taeyong, weakly dragging him closer. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.

Taeyong snorts. “You aren’t looking at me.”

“Your mind is beautiful,” Yuta says with a yawn. “We’ll go wherever you want.”

By a little after noon they’re walking through the whimsical little town, hand in hand while they enjoy fresh meat buns from a stall by the river flowing through the streets. They smile at locals and accept flowers from a couple girls jumping rope. There are glass objects for sale in the market that could rival those of Yuta’s hometown, although he still insists that his edge these out, just a bit. Along with glass are many stone creations, which they are told is this area’s specialty craft, explaining all the intricate rock carvings at their inn. Taeyong asks Yuta for some money and returns a few minutes later with a stone fish, captured forever in rough mineral but appearing as fluid and alive as water. He says it’s a gift to replace the koi he broke and that he’ll pay Yuta back whenever he gets human money, but Yuta accepts kisses as collateral instead.

Rather than sit down for a meal, they hop from place to place, eating small portions from different cafés and specialty shops until they can’t eat anymore. To digest, they sit on a bench in a park and watch families play.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find your family,” Yuta says, stroking Taeyong’s knuckles with a thumb, “but - if you want to - you can stay with me. Forever or for a day, it doesn’t matter.”

Taeyong leans into Yuta’s side. “It’ll be hard to go back to accepting that I’ll never see my home, but if I’m with you I think I’ll be alright.”

When they return to the inn that evening, their emotions are torn between the defeat of their journey and budding butterflies of a life together starting anew. Yuta wonders if now would be a good time to tell Taeyong all the things he didn’t have a chance to say when their main focus was something other than his own feelings, and he almost goes for it, but when they pass the front desk on their way to their room, the familiar man behind it stops them.

“I see you visited the market,” he says, motioning at the stone fish in Yuta’s hand. “It’s nice to see you indulging in what our lovely town has to offer. If you would like more suggestions on what to do during your stay here, please let me know.”

“Thank you,” Yuta says, “but we didn’t find what we came here for. Now we’d just like to enjoy our last few days leisurely.”

Again, the man looks at Taeyong. “I’m very knowledgeable,” he says. “Perhaps I could help you find your goal.”

Taeyong offers a polite smile. “I don’t think that’s possible. We’ve tried everything.”

“Have you?” the man asks. He strokes the dragon candle holder on his desk with a slender finger. “I believe there is one more sight worthy of seeking out.”

Yuta isn’t sure what to make of this conversation; something about it lends to the idea that their concierge knows more than he’s willing to say outright.

“We have a legend here,” the man continues, “about our forest. It’s sacred, see; locals rarely venture into it and we never share its secrets with tourists. But if we were to share anything, it would be the tale of the temple built directly in its center. Some say it once served as a gateway through which spirits could cross, and that the magic surrounding it provides safety for all otherworldly creatures that may live nearby.” He smiles at Taeyong, pearly whites shining in candlelight. “Did you know,” he hums, “that there’s an ancient pond in its garden?”

Yuta’s stomach drops and at his side, he can hear Taeyong suck in a breath. Both of their hearts pound at their chests and something in the air - some aura surrounding the three of them - clicks into place. Yuta opens his mouth to demand clarification, but a bell jingles on the wall behind the man.

“Excuse me,” he says, nodding his head at them. “I am needed in the kitchen.” He begins to leave, elegant figure slipping from right beneath their grasp, but Taeyong manages to find his voice before it’s too late.

“Your name,” he says. “Please, what is your name?”

The man grins and Yuta swears the candle on his desk burns a little brighter. “Doyoung,” he says.

That night, Yuta and Taeyong cannot sleep. They’re kept awake by an insufferable urge to find the temple in the woods pounding at their brains and anxious stutters bombarding their hearts. But it is too dangerous to venture out there now, so they merely hold each other close and share the nagging anticipation together.

Doyoung is, of course, at the front of the inn when Yuta and Taeyong depart early in the morning. They almost want to believe that he never leaves when he nods at them and looks just as attentive at 6 AM as he does at 2 in the afternoon. Yuta tries to broach the subject of the temple, but Doyoung simply smiles from behind his candle. It appears that they are on their own.

It’s Taeyong’s idea to leave markers along their path so they do not get lost. He said he used to do the same thing when he first ventured around his home in the sea, leaving shells in his wake so he would not lose his place in the vast ocean. Here, they undo the bracelets they bought before they left Yuta’s town and tie bits of string around tree branches as they go. It’s not easy to navigate a forest neither of them have walked through before, and they spend hours heading down certain paths, backtracking, and starting new routes. Though there is plenty of shade, the summer heat still burns at their skin and they must stop many a time to rest their legs. Yuta makes sure to keep Taeyong hydrated, and they have both agreed that if Taeyong starts feeling worse for wear, they’re heading right back to the inn.

A brief pause for a late breakfast is the only time they are not searching or thinking about searching. They let themselves rebuild their energy and take a moment to enjoy the scenery around them. For all the work it’s making them do, this forest is still a breathtaking one; it shares the same feeling of contentment and peace in the air that the town does, and the deeper they venture into its maw, the less uptight and stressed they become. It’s as if the forest itself is taking their worries away.

It’s well into the afternoon when Taeyong spots the first signs of human intervention. Between two large trees so tall they can’t see the tops of them, a wooden pole has been hammered into the dirt. From it waves a simple red ribbon, and beneath that is an arrow pointing ahead. They follow it, and soon reach another pole, then another. Finally after five minutes of trekking across overgrown tree roots and stumbling over rocks, they reach a stone staircase leading up to a looming temple, weathered by nature but still grand in presence.

Taeyong takes Yuta’s hand and they begin to climb.

The inside of the temple is clearly abandoned, but there is still something about it that makes Yuta’s hair stand on end. He’s pretty sure the temple knows that they’re here, and if it didn’t want them to be, they might be in trouble.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” Taeyong murmurs. “I think it’s welcoming me.”

They walk slowly through the ancient structure - through worship halls and supply rooms and past doors that have been locked for generations - until they find a way out. Yuta carefully pushes a door already open a crack and light streams into the dusty, dark building. They step onto a back veranda and face an enormous garden, and if they weren’t looking right at it they wouldn’t believe its condition. The garden is in perfect, immaculate shape, exploding with colors so vivid and lively Yuta has half a mind to write it off as fake. Birds and butterflies inhabit the sky and wild creatures of all species wander brazenly through the bushes, not caring one bit about the presence of these two people. But the grandest vision of them all is the pond: it takes up the entire center of the garden and stretches outwards towards the horizon. Moss and lily pads and flowers Yuta’s never seen before decorate its surface, and a small waterfall continuously flows over a pile of rocks despite there being no source of water on top of them.

Taeyong feels more drawn to this pond than anything else he’s ever experienced in his life. He slowly sets his backpack on the wooden porch beneath their feet and climbs down onto bright green grass. Wherever he steps, the grass stands right back up as soon as he lifts his foot from on top of it. Yuta follows, but gives him his space. They reach the pond and Taeyong peers down into its glistening water. He looks conflicted about what he should do.

Yuta opens his mouth.

“Taeyong?”

They both freeze at a new voice trickling in from their right. A woman is there, in the water. Her eyes are a familiar black and her hair is white as snow. It sticks to her dripping body, flowing down her skin and just barely covering her naked chest. Yuta looks away quickly.

Taeyong takes a step towards her.

“Taeyong?” she says again, voice cracking.

Taeyong takes another step, then another, then he’s stumbling over his own feet and falling to his knees in front of the woman. She pulls him close by the shirt and holds him tight, as though she never wants to let him go again. Taeyong sobs and buries his face in her neck, and though he squeezes his eyes shut, tears pour over his cheeks. The women murmurs words of love and pain and affection into his ear and accepts everything he has to offer with open arms.

 _“Mom,”_ Taeyong chokes out.

The time Yuta spends waiting on the veranda is the most impatient he’s ever been. Evening comes and bathes the garden in a breathtaking blaze of orange and red, but he doesn’t have the capacity to focus on anything but Taeyong. They did it. They found his family; his home. Taeyong can live the life he’s always dreamed of, and Yuta should be happy. He thinks it’s rather selfish of him that he’s not. He’d almost convinced himself that Taeyong would live with him now, happily ever after in his apartment in his mundane little town, but now that he knows that won’t be the case, he feels incredibly lonely. When Taeyong finally surfaces and looks at Yuta with the brightest smile on his face, Yuta’s heart breaks.

“It’s amazing,” Taeyong says as he pulls himself from the water. His clothes are long gone, but this time Yuta doesn’t turn away. “The world down there-- it’s everything I ever dreamed of.” He runs to Yuta and hops onto the veranda and kisses him, water from his hands dripping onto Yuta’s cheeks and soon mixing with Yuta’s tears. “Yuta?” he mumbles between kisses. “What’s wrong?”

Yuta can’t hold back anymore, emotions choking him as they bubble up his throat. “I love you,” he breathes. Taeyong’s lips still. “I’m not saying this to make you stay with me. I want you here, with your family. I just wanted you to know.”

Taeyong kisses Yuta again, this time gently. “Thank you,” he says. He presses his forehead against Yuta’s and his eyes reflect blue in their depths. “I love you too. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Taeyong convinces Yuta to sit by the pond and introduces him to his family, who all welcome him into their community with tears and firm handshakes. It’s bittersweet for Yuta, who is losing Taeyong while they are getting him back, but he cherishes this time with people who love Taeyong as much as he has come to. Night draws near so some suggest that Yuta stay in the temple, but the building isn’t fit for living in anymore so he regretfully bids them farewell. Taeyong, now dressed once again, offers to walk him out of the forest.

“How will you find your way back?” Yuta asks as Taeyong leads him through the temple by the hand.

Taeyong flashes a smile over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I just know I’ll find it. It’s a feeling.”

They remove the ties they’d placed on tree branches earlier that day to protect the location of the merfolks’ pond, and with each string that comes down, the thread that connects Yuta to Taeyong stretches thinner and thinner. Despite how burnt out his body is, he doesn’t want their walk to end; sadly, they reach the edge of the forest and the inn on top of the hill is in sight a short distance away. Taeyong must leave now if he wants to make it back to the pond before it’s too dark, but it’s hard to let go. Yuta hugs Taeyong’s waist tightly and Taeyong breathes deeply into Yuta’s neck. Neither of them want to say goodbye, so they seal all the words they can’t utter with a kiss.

When Yuta enters the inn alone, Doyoung doesn’t try to initiate conversation.

Yuta would have stayed in bed all day - maybe even for the last few days that he paid for the room - but insistent knocking at his door drags him to his feet out of frustration. He stumbles towards the door with bedhead at 1 in the afternoon and yanks on the handle aggressively, but instead of an unnervingly pleasant Doyoung, Taeyong is standing there.

“You’re still not dressed?” Taeyong asks.

In response, Yuta pulls him into the sheets and doesn’t get out of bed again until 3.

As they unwind in a perfectly heated bath, pressed together in a tub with Taeyong’s tail glinting against the water, Yuta can’t stop kissing the back of Taeyong’s neck and holding him close. Part of him believes that Taeyong might evaporate along with the steam drifting in the air of the bathroom if he let him go for even a second.

“I thought you’d want to be with your family,” Yuta murmurs into Taeyong’s skin.

Taeyong reaches back and strokes Yuta’s cheek. “I have a lifetime to spend with them, thanks to you.” He shifts as much as he can in the cramped tub and pecks the side of Yuta’s mouth. “Right now, I want to be with my other family.”

Sunday rolls around and Yuta’s heart is full and his phone brims with photos from their final days together: shots with the cutest desserts they could find; poses beneath willow trees and atop old bridges; candids of Taeyong with no artistry or finesse to them, but they bring Yuta the most joy whenever he looks at them. Contrary to their sudden parting the night they found Taeyong’s family, this goodbye feels complete. They have all the closure they need until they meet again.

“Did you enjoy your stay?” Doyoung asks as Yuta returns his room key, although he seems to only be asking as a formality. The look he gives their interlocked hands - gripped tightly for as long as they have left - speaks for them.

“It’s a lovely town,” Yuta says instead. He’s about to leave when Doyoung holds out a copy of the local paper.

“Something to read on your journey home?”

Yuta isn’t really interested, but he accepts the paper anyway and shoves it in a side pocket of his backpack. He opens the door for Taeyong and as he follows through the threshold, he glances back at the desk - to wave one more time, or perhaps to catch a last glimpse of the strange inn worker - and sees Doyoung put out his candle with the delicate wave of a finger.

“My family wishes they could send you off,” Taeyong says as reach the train station, “but they’re not ready to leave the garden. Even I’m not sure if I can travel without your help; at least not yet. One day, though, I want to show them where you grew up.”

Yuta brings Taeyong’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. “I’d love that.”

“We stopped in a lot of places so it feels like you live far away, but you don’t,” Taeyong adds, slight unease peeking through his tone. “It’s a three hour train ride. That’s not bad.”

Yuta kisses Taeyong’s forehead this time. “I’ll visit until you’re sick of me,” he promises.

“Then you’ll visit me for eternity,” Taeyong says, meeting Yuta’s lips.

A voice over the loudspeaker announces that the train will depart in a few minutes. They hug for most of that time, and share a last kiss as an attendant calls for final boarding. Taeyong laughs when Yuta has to run across the platform and wave for them to keep the door open, and smiles fondly when Yuta snags a window seat to wave to him until the train is too far from the station for them to see each other anymore.

Yuta notes, thankfully, that he isn’t sad. Distance will never come between them. They conquered an ocean and countless cities together. A train ride is nothing. Still, it’ll be hard to go back to a life without Taeyong in it; without him being a fixture of Yuta’s home and a permanent partner at his side. He’d realized, on their journey, that no place can ever be mundane and ordinary if Taeyong is with him, mermaid tail or not. He would have gladly stayed right where he was or gone anywhere in the world as long as they could be together.

Not caring to dwell on such thoughts at the moment, Yuta reaches for his backpack on the seat next to him in search of headphones when his hand knocks the newspaper messily jammed into an outer pocket. _‘What the hell,’_ he thinks, and unfolds the crinkled paper. He reads the header on the page then pauses. He flips through what Doyoung had given him - what he thought had been a complete set - but there is only one section in his hands, and a small one at that. It makes sense that the real estate listings would be scarce in a community with so few new houses. On the second page, there is what appears to be a hardened droplet of wax next to a listing for a single bedroom apartment.

Yuta can’t help the excitement already forming in his chest or the gears turning in his brain, for he doesn’t dislike his tiny seaside town, but he can safely say, after living there alone for twenty-odd years, that he’s rather restless in it.

**Author's Note:**

> hello~ i hope this story was enjoyable, especially to my prompter. i veered a liiiiitle away from your prompt but i tried to keep your main idea in mind! this fic was a bit of a battle, but i'm so happy to add to the yutae tag~ i was also very excited about doyoung's cameo, but i didn't tag him so he'd seem a little more mysterious. please note that i love him and i did not forget about him~ and i would like to give a huge shout out to the enrara mods, who worked very hard for this second round that received an insane amount of attention compared to the last. thank you so much for being patient with me and allowing me to push myself through this story~
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